Contemplative
by Sentimentalthoughts
Summary: This story goes on Oliver's contemplative journey through To The Altar. The characters belong to Martha Williamson.
1. Chapter 1

In _To The Altar_ Oliver said that he was contemplative. Contemplative of course means thoughtful, introspective but it can also refer to a person who devotes his life to prayer. Given that Martha Williamson writes SSD, I don't think it is too far a stretch to say that Oliver's contemplations were also prayerful. The following story examines the contemplations of Oliver in _To The Altar._ The reflection begins on Monday night and hopefully will include each day of that life-changing week concluding on Saturday. There will be dialogue between Oliver and Joe included in the chapter about Thursday's events. I hope you enjoy my take on Oliver's struggle during _TTA._ The characters belong to the mind and heart of Martha Williamson.

 **CONTEMPLATIVE**

 **MONDAY**

The DLO is empty. It is late. Oliver sits at his desk. He is just sitting there – thinking – thinking about her – contemplating the two of them.

This deeper musing involving her started when she was gone for three months. The DLO seemed so empty without her. He was empty without her. When she returned he grabbed her by the wrist, spun her to him, and kissed her with all the passion and longing that he could express to someone who wasn't his wife.

Huh – and there it is. Where are all this longing and passion and joy going? Is he truly in love with her? Is marrying her a commitment he is ready to make? Is asking her to spend her life with a human antique fair to her? Could things stay the same – for a while?

He sits clicking the pen someone left on his desk. He doesn't really like pens that click. He prefers the quiet turn. He tosses the pen onto the desk and continues thinking.

At first when she came back he was just happy that she was there – with him – back at work in the DLO. Every night there was something new about her for which he was thankful to God. He could not have withstood the transition to this new godforsaken space without her. She even made that tolerable. All he has to do is think of her putting that hammer through the wall and he laughs. Who is this man that laughs thinking of such careless destruction? But she doesn't measure things and he is very measured.

At first there is the simple joy of dating – of nights sitting in a porch swing, holding hands, laughing at nothing in particular – of dinners together – of hesitantly trying just a bite of a new dish from her plate served to his lips from her fork. It is the sparkle in her eyes and the smell of her perfume.

At first it is all the little things that he has never experienced with her. And that is enough.

But somewhere along this path with her, somewhere between meeting this audacious blonde at a coffee cart and this quiet night in the DLO, she becomes something more than a colleague, more than a friend. They are no longer "just" anything. To continue as they are would be like trying to keep a raft steady when the current is carrying them both forward.

A part of him wants to blame this current dilemma on the contents of a badly ripped and mangled box. But he asks himself if the timing of her discovering that package and then of his discovering her wearing it is a divine delivery in and of itself. He has always trusted the timing. He was already pondering marriage. Why doesn't he trust this?

He was praying about their relationship long before he saw her standing there. Was her standing there providential? "Dear Father, is finding her in that dress a sign from You? Oh God, I do not know." Nevertheless he does not believe in coincidence.

Yet they are two very different people.

He is introspective. He isn't certain how to talk to God about her now. Tonight, as many nights recently, his thoughts are a mixture of talking to God and talking to himself. He has boarded the raft with her. He isn't certain he is ready to go downstream. However, today's discovery in the DLO feels as if his raft is loosening from its moorings.

That morning she had doffed her shoes and gone flying out of the DLO. That alone was a prime example of his conundrum; barefoot at work is something Oliver O'Toole would never be. There was a time when an employee running barefoot through the post office would have mortified him. Somehow she is adorable; she is irresistible. But he must speak to her about that. Especially since they are – are – dating? Going steady? He is back to brooding over the matter again.

He thinks of her headed in the wrong direction with an undeliverable package. She the rule breaker resists the protest of the rule keeper. Yet far too much to his delight, she is on tiptoes in those bare feet, leaning into him, whispering in his ear – a wisp of her hair against his cheek, a hint of her perfume. He is rendered helpless. She intoxicates him. If she only knew that it took him a good fifteen minutes to hear a word spoken in that parking meeting for thinking about the way he feels when she is that close to him. He leaves the meeting thinking diagonals won the day whether they did or not.

Sitting at his desk he realizes that he is smiling. He can almost feel her against his side now. He remembers every goodnight kiss, every lean in and bump to his shoulder, every time she looks at him as she looks at no other man. When she is that close to him he feels alive and not dead. As far as he is concerned everyone else can go away and hurry. He is Oliver O'Toole and he is happy, truly happy. Truth be told he loves her flirtations. He is having fun and she is the source of that fun. He needs no instructions, no book on how to have fun. All he needs is she. Why should he question their future?

But he does question.

Would she one day find his rules too confining? Would he one day find her flirtations manipulative. They are two different people but are they too different? When she first comes to Denver he see her as a strong-willed, injured, doubting, technophile. He with a slight measure of arrogance sets out to prove to her the value of the written word, tradition, and faith. He does not considered what she will do to him or the degree to which he deeply needs her.

The smile leaves his face again. He sighs and rises to walk to the mini-fridge to retrieve a Yoo-hoo. He isn't ready to go home to that big empty house and he allows himself to ponder going home to her. If she were there he wouldn't be standing in an empty, dark DLO drinking alone. They would go home and be together. They would cook dinner and clean the kitchen and talk. Afterward he plays records – vinyl LPs - and sits on the couch and reads a book with her curled beside him and then….and then….she joins him with an electronic device….

He shakes his head.

He walks over and sits on the stool in front of her workstation – gently wiping her desk with his hand. His eyes turn to the mirror across the room from him and he sighs again.

That flirtatious moment in terminal on his way to a meeting about parking spaces is light hearted – easy – all good. His gait back to the DLO speaks of a man who has taken a break from all his musing and pondering. He prays only one sentence, "Thank you for this lovely woman who brightens every room and warms my life."

But then he finds her. He finds the object of his affection giving him something truly to ponder.

He is unprepared and he is always prepared. He is speechless. In that moment neither Shakespeare nor the Bible crosses his mind. Words don't matter. Only she matters.

Sitting here now he admits to himself that he could have turned and slipped away. Turning away never crossed his mind. For once since Holly he stopped thinking. The swift current of his heart pulls him to her.

He realizes that he was forward and he is never forward. Hands that are always cautious with her button her dress with ease and confidence, resting for a moment at her hips. He feels no shame, no insecurity. That moment of intimacy with her is not uncomfortable for him. He is at peace.

Shush – don't break the spell. He can't take his eyes off her reflection in the mirror. He wants to stand there just looking at her. He loves her blushing cheeks. His eyes fill as he sits at her portable desk thinking of her standing over there. He shifts the bottle of Yoo-Hoo to his left hand in order to rub his eyes with the fingers of his right as if they were wet from fatigue. The image of her does not leave him nor do the tears. She never seemed more innocent or vulnerable to him. He feels completely protective of her.

Let time stop. Leave us alone. Give us this moment.

She wants to assure him that it isn't what it seems and he muses on how he teases her with his words and his smile and his own twinkling eyes. But then she turns and he looks down – taking her in all the way down to the hem of the garment. A bride stands before him.

And now he can't forget – he doesn't want to forget. If seeing her in a used wedding dress, standing in the DLO could have this affect on him what would seeing her in…in….

And there it was again. "Oh God help," he says aloud. And he means it.

He tosses the empty drink bottle into the recycle bin and hears it clink against an empty Kombucha. They couldn't even share the same taste in beverages. It is time to go home.


	2. Chapter 2: Tuesday and Wednesday

Thank you so much for your reviews of the first chapter of Contemplative. Martha Williamson creates such depth in her characters is not difficult to allow one's imagination to get carried away with possibilities and questions. In TTA Oliver enters the DLO on Thursday morning not in the best of moods. How did he get there? Where did his contemplations on Tuesday and Wednesday take him? Eric Mabius certainly makes Oliver's struggle believable, even heart-wrenching. I hope you don't find Tuesday and Wednesday too frustrating. Saturday awaits us all.

 **TUESDAY**

When daylight finally breaks Oliver does everything possible to lead a structured, organized, intentional life. They will do what they do best. They will deliver. The sooner the contents of this ripped and mangled box are out of the office the better. There is also a tux to fit and a party to plan. A part of him is glad that today they will spend most of the time going their separate ways. Perhaps he can think more clearly.

However, she does look particularly lovely with her blonde hair against that royal blue coat. He thinks how smart and lovely she is – and totally unaware of where his mind keeps going. He cannot help himself from reaching out and touching her coat sleeve when they part.

As five o'clock nears he looks at his watch and determines that he has been successful. He smiles. Enjoying tea and sandwiches served by a distinguished gentleman is such an orderly, civilized pleasantry. Rita solves the riddle of the undeliverable dress. The package will be gone tomorrow. His dad solves the problems of the previously unplanned party (regardless of his reservations therewith), and he solves – well, he helps Norman and avoids spending unnecessary time with her.

It is now well past five yet he briskly walks back to the office once more. He merely wants to check on things. No one is there. They all are busy with wedding plans. He goes to his desk and picks up the stack of letters left for his attention and quickly thumbs through them. He taps them on the desk so that they are perfectly aligned and neatly places them in a tray for his care tomorrow. Everything has a place and everything is in its place. He looks around the room. He knows his place here. He is certain of his role. He is sure of his lines. In many respects today he is his best self - the astute leader of this detective pack and wise friend to Norman. He feels good about his day.

About to leave he slips his hand in his overcoat pocket and finds the business card from the men's shop where he was fitted for his tuxedo. He is stopped in his tracks by a little tiny card.

Instead of leaving he leans back against his desk, crosses his legs at the ankles, and continues to look at the little white card. His memory carries him back to the men's shop and to the earlier conversation with Norman. The topic of the week is inescapable. All of this talk of wedding and marriage not only makes him contemplate the future, but it also makes him remember his past.

Somehow he is in no hurry to go home. The house is empty after all.

He is a little chilly in an empty DLO. He slowly moves to the DLO fireplace – their makeshift heater in their substandard space. He sits down, contemplating. He watches the flames burning and leaping within the stove as he absentmindedly taps the business card on the arm of the chair.

Tuxedo, wedding dress, best man, maid of honor – all parts of a ceremony he never had. He never proposed. He never had much of marriage either. He thinks of how terribly different his relationship and marriage to Holly were from everything about Norman and Rita's relationship. He can hear Norman awkwardly say, "When Rita and I first got together we talked about everything." He and Holly communicated about nothing. With Holly he rushes into the movie before he reads the marquee. He sees it now – in neon lights: Parental Guidance Suggested.

He readily admits to himself that he sought no counsel. He sought neither the guidance of his dad nor his Heavenly Father. He shakes his head at his own folly. "Oh God."

He folds the already small card in half and places it back into his pocket.

He knows that he and Holly were more of a chemistry experiment that went all wrong than a love story. He had settled for fireworks instead of an eternal flame. He is wiser for it. In many ways he isn't the same man. He will not make that mistake again.

He leans forward. He leans closer to the flame, props his forearms on his legs, and interlocks his fingers. His thoughts are a jumble of Holly, himself, and her.

He recalls the first spark that occurred between them one night while dancing in the DLO. It frightens him, leaves him breathless, and catches him completely off guard. He squelches it immediately for the sake of his marriage and for her sake as well. That decision does not require prayer. He knows what to do. Integrity and fidelity are ingrained in him.

Nevertheless as soon as his marriage is over to whom does he go? He goes straight to her.

Tonight as he seeks the warmth of a fire in the DLO he thinks about how he never feels cold when she is there. Holly nearly froze him to death. Even at 2 a.m. on an unusably cold spring night sitting in a porch swing with her - he is warm.

He cannot help but chuckle thinking of her defending herself with a letter opener. "That's what happened to that letter opener. She must still have it." He lets his thoughts linger here a minute.

He gets warmer just thinking of her and slips out of the sleeves of his topcoat allowing the coat to drape the chair.

He thinks of how she looked in the light of the street lamp – hair slightly mussed by the collar of her coat, makeup smudged from crying – she is attractive to him even in her indignation.

He ponders how he almost loses her that night. She is leaving – leaving because she thinks Holly is staying. He is a little slow on what has motivated this boxing of belongings but he catches what she is saying or not saying. It is clear to him now.

They sit together – a balanced swing. Breathing is easier with her. With Holly it was as if he inhaled the moment they met and didn't really exhale until that night - sitting in a porch swing with her. He remembers her face near his that night and how he wants to kiss her. But he is glad he didn't. It would have been selfish. It was too soon. It would have been wrong. The ring was off his finger but the divorce papers were not signed. But more than that it would have been more of an attempt to kiss away the sting of what he has just been through than about a future with her – a future with her. "Oh my," he says to no one.

He thinks about how natural it is to give to her, to care for her. It is just that porch swings just aren't enough any more. So what is next he wonders.

Instead of wishing to avoid her, he wishes she were there beside him now. He wants to slip his arms around her and say…and say….

"When the time comes you will know your lines." Why is he having so much difficulty with these lines? Granted Norman is talking about something else but the principle is the same. She is his co-star in their love story. Is she a merely chapter in his life or is she the novel? What should his next line be? "Heavenly Father, give me the words, give me wisdom," he prays.

He is tired. He throws his coat over his arm to leave.

He returns home and it is empty. He goes to bed and it is empty.

He spends far too long tossing and turning and contemplating weddings and marriage, relying on his own reasoning ability. He does not realize that the further from Monday and the closer to Thursday he gets the less he relies on prayer and the more he relies on himself.

He is feeling out of sorts. When he can no longer stand thinking of her in particular he lies awake pondering weddings themselves. Why is there much ado about the dress? Is not a nice church dress sufficient? Does one have to serve cake? And really what is all this tossing bouquets? Must one use that terrible, secular, Wagner _Bridal Chorus?_ Somewhere between considering the merits of _His Sheep May Safely Graze_ and _Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring_ he falls into fitful slumber.

 **WEDNESDAY**

Tonight he will go home straight home. He does not linger in the DLO. He did not sleep well last night. He has had enough. Can she never leave well enough alone? Find Jessica's mother? Oh happy day. Once again she pushes to do the impossible. "But with God and the Untied States Post Office nothing is impossible," he hears himself say. His own words mock him. He cannot get a break.

On the drive home he thinks about their early cases together. She has been there no time at all and already has him pretending to be a defense attorney, crawling out of windows, challenging military authority, getting locked in bank vaults. None of this happened to him before she came.

"I hopes she does have some kind of unknown security clearance because she has hacked enough records to go to jail for life," he mumbles to himself as he drives.

He thinks about slipping into a courtroom to prevent a good man from doing a bad thing. "And who was behind that?" he asks himself aloud. He knows. The answer is the same woman who went for coffee only to follow the same distraught man to a cemetery. She is willing to do whatever, go wherever, and call whomever to make a delivery or to save the day.

Suddenly he slams on brakes. He almost runs a stop sign. "This woman is making a wreck of me," he says aloud as if he expects his steering wheel to agree with him.

As he arrives home he bounds up the stone steps to his house. He starts to unlock his front door when he turns and looks behind him - steps of stone. Everything reminds him of her. He loses himself remembering the way she looked that night in Washington, eating a sandwich on cold stone steps. His shoulders drop. She looked so beautiful sitting there with his coat to keep her warm. He should have wrapped himself around her to keep her warm instead of just his coat. "WAIT A MINUTE! WHAT THE SAM HILL?" he says to himself as he fumbles for his house key. He hopes the neighbors did not hear that.

No, her pushing the boundaries and going the extra mile to solve cases are nothing new. She is pushing him to insanity is what she is doing. He manages to unlock the door and enter his house. He hangs his coat in the hall closet – where it belongs. He decides a hot shower before going to bed will wash the day away. No, he will not go to bed with a hint of her perfume tonight. "Keep your mind and your heart clear. Be rational. Get through this week," he tells himself.

Finish shower. Comb hair. Brush teeth. Hang towel. Dress for bed. Turn down bed. Pick up evening devotional guide. Read Bible. Evening verse Proverbs 18:10 – The name of Lord is a strong tower. The righteous run to it and are saved. "You have got to be kidding me. Lord," he sighs.

Just when he meant to leave her outside on the stone steps in his thoughts he allows himself to go back to D.C. To him nothing surpasses D.C. It is their greatest accomplishment and for security reasons the public will never know about it. He is taken by her tenacity and still appalled by the presumptuous advances of another man. "He was a cad." The thought that the scoundrel was able to keep them apart for three months still bothers him. "God help me forgive that man," he says aloud. If being separated from her for three months drives him to despair how could he survive not spending the rest of his life with her?

To spend the rest of his life with her….

He looks at the empty pillow beside him. To spend the rest of his life with her is to wake beside her each morning, to share all the small ordinary wonders of each day, to honor each other, to respect each other, to even bare with each other's little annoyances that really do not matter in the greater scheme of things, and at the end of the day to be grateful that hers is last face you see before you fall asleep. It is to mature in faith together as well as to mature in years. It is to hope to live long enough to still hold hands even when they are withered from age.

He turns on his side and puts his hand on the vacant pillow. He falls asleep quickly and his dreams are filled with her.

At first they are dancing. He is happy. With every whirl her dress changes colors – at first it is blue, then red, then pink, then blue, then red, then pink. Over and over again she spins - first blue then red, then pink, then white. He is confused. He thinks, "Don't stop dancing." But they do stop. She is wearing the wedding dress he found her wearing in the DLO. He is buttoning the dress for her again. Norman, Rita, and his dad are there. He hears Norman say, "You aren't supposed to see the bride before the wedding." They are at his church but it doesn't look like his church. The next moment he is standing at the altar waiting for her. She is coming down a very long aisle. The aisle is so long that he has difficulty seeing her. As she approaches he can tell that she is wearing a wedding dress. Except when she gets to the altar she is carrying a computer tablet instead of a bouquet. He looks across the congregation feeling terrified and there on the back row he glimpses auburn hair. He wants to run but he freezes at the altar.

He wakes unable to return to sleep and unfortunately unable to forget. It is his greatest fear. What if his dreams of her turn into a nightmare?


	3. Chapter 3:Thursday

**Dear POstables, thank you so much for your reviews. You are very encouraging to a purely amateur writer. We know that in TTA Oliver was not himself on Thursday but much more at peace on Friday. Here is my take on his mind and his mood and what changed. As always, the characters belong to the wonderfully inspiring Martha Williamson.**

 **THURSDAY**

It is Thursday. He is distracted. He nicks himself shaving. He wears a plaid suit that he is having second thoughts about wearing ever again. He trips leaving the house because SOMEONE has moved the furniture for a party that he does not want to host.

He walks into the DLO and there she is – ponytail and navy dress. She doesn't have to turn around. He knows how her eyes look when she wears blue. He feels himself starting to smile just because she is there and he is aggravated at his weakness for her.

"Of course she is engaged in that computer. She probably had some smoothie concoction for breakfast with heaven only knows what ingredients, bee pollen or something," he inwardly grumbles.

He is snarky in his responses to her. And how does she respond? She touches his arm and looks up at him with affection and speaks with gentle words. She steps close enough for him to smell her perfume. For a split second he lets his guard down. He exhales. He relaxes. This release does not last. It only serves to remind him that he has feelings for which he has yet to decide the right words or actions.

He spends the day either trying not to think of her in that way or ruminating on their differences. "What have I done?" He feels nothing but frustration. Is it too much too soon or should it be at all?

The night of the bachelor party is sheer misery. He enters his home that evening with Norman – a place that he should be comfortable – to find a woman rising out of a cake. Granted it is Norman's grandmother on a computer screen, which is probably the cleverest, most creative, and caring idea one could imagine - but still. Still what? It makes him uncomfortable? It makes him love her all the more? "I could have at least been forewarned. Forewarned is forearmed," he thinks to himself.

These musings within his own mind continue to plague him. "Why did I agree to this chaos? It is hot in here. Is it any wonder? Men are everywhere. Time to loosen the tie and role up the sleeves. At least avoid looking at her – in those black pants – with that blouse off her shoulders – bare porcelain shoulders that carry the fragrance of her perfume. I may be a human antique but I am a male antique! Avoid eye contact – run around and put out coasters - or risk - risk rings on the furniture… or a ring on her…hand? Now that is going too far."

He isn't sure what is more frustrating: trying not to get shrimp sauce everywhere; trying not to think about her as his bride; or simply trying not to notice how she looks tonight.

"Is this what life with her will be…. bedlam? It's bedlam! Life with her would be chaos and computers." He pauses, looking at the empty plastic cup in his hand, hearing her laughter across the room. "…and without her it would be lost and lonely."

Noticing Oliver's mood and distance from her, his dad initiates a conversation on the subject but it isn't the time. They speak briefly again later while cleaning but the moment is interrupted.

Finally everyone is gone – including her. Joe stays in town with him that night. They clear the last of the horrible red plastic cups and the confetti from Ardis Parker-Pennington-Paine's grand entrance.

In typical thoughtful fashion she calls to let him know that she and Rita are at the hotel and to see if she needs to return to help clean the mess her idea created.

She is cheerful and loving. "You sure you don't want us to come back and help clean up?" she asks. Does he want her to come back? COME BACK SHANE. He rolls his eyes. He answers no but deep down inside he thinks, "To want…or not to want…that is the question."

He assures her that he can handle things – and he can handle things. He can discard the remains of a party. He can handle trimming rose bushes and forwarding mail. But can he handle seeing her in a new light?

They say their good byes. Yet he hangs on to the receiver of his phone even after the connection is broken – just standing there – contemplating. His thoughts are interrupted by his dad.

"She called," says Joe, with a smile as he returns the broom and dustpan to the closet.

"Yes," says Oliver, with a heavy exhale, returning the receiver to its cradle.

"All done here," says Joe.

Joe washes his hands in the kitchen sink and walks to the fridge. He takes a beer and hands one to Oliver. The two move from the kitchen to sit on the brown leather sofa, each taking an opposite end of the couch. Joe sips the brew in the bottle. Oliver sits his on a coaster on the coffee table.

"Do want to talk about it?"

"Dad, at first she was this somewhat aggravating colleague," says Oliver, shaking his head as if he is relieving every aggravating moment. "There was always this - this space between us. I would not cross that line. I had no intentions of becoming involved with her. I was married. I asked her to take dance lessons with me so that if Holly returned Holly and I could dance together."

Oliver pauses, shaking his head. He continues.

"I may have failed to explain that to her from the onset."

Silence falls again. His loving dad sits and waits.

"While we were practicing this dance one evening things became – uncomfortable - and I stopped the lessons immediately. Our first true argument followed soon thereafter. I was more than unkind to her. I found her to be….intrusive, meddlesome. I thought of her as a technophile who used her skills to interfere in my life. Looking back, looking back I realize she was an ally – in that moment perhaps my greatest ally. She told me the truth whether I wanted to hear it or not."

Oliver leans forward, props his forearms on his legs, and looks at the floor.

"After the divorce, the space between us narrowed. We were no longer just colleagues we were friends. She is forthright and steadfast and compassionate."

Oliver shifts again and sit back once more.

"The fact that you and I are sitting here together tonight I owe a in large part to her," he says, looking at his dad only to look away in the next breath.

"So many divine deliveries with her….She believes in second chances…in miracles...Sometimes I think she has more faith than I….But then we - we – and everything changed."

"Given your moral code I assume you mean you kissed her and you took your time," says Joe with a smile, trying to make eye contact.

Oliver nods, looks down, and smiles. "That would be accurate."

"She returned from D.C. and we started seeing each other - outside of work,." Now Oliver realizes that he himself is smiling. "But you are aware of that."

But his smile again fades.

"We had an extended trip in the recreational vehicle and somewhere along the way – I stop thinking of her as being one way and instead she is the other – this aggravating technophile is the finest woman I know."

He shakes his head.

"You are losing me," says Joe.

"Dad, the space between us – is gone. She is right here in front of me and I don't know what to do. I pursued her, I waited for her, I wanted her, and now….I do not know what to do."

"Son, you are two different people and you do have to face that. She is cell phone and you are landline. You read books and she reads a Nook. You sing in the choir and she, well does she sing?"

"No, she barely can carry a tune."

"You either accept that or you need to move on. There is always Dal…"

"What?" said Oliver, cutting him off.

"I'm just saying maybe you want someone different – more - intellectual – I don't know."

"She can converse on everything from technology to art. She is intuitive and analytical. She has been integral in solving lost letters. Frankly, I don't know what….what…"

"What you would do without her? Well she is efficient and an asset to you professionally but she does laugh - a lot. I mean you saw her and Rita tonight – if you ever actually looked at her tonight anyway," Joe said clearing this throat and trying not to smile. "And she drinks weird stuff – kumbacha - kombucha."

"Are you serious? I'm a grown man and I drink Yoo-hoo," stated Oliver as a matter of fact. "As far as her laughter is concerned, I find taking joy in life a blessing." He then mumbles and wrings his hands. "Besides, her eyes sparkle when she laughs."

"Well you do live by a certain code of conduct. If you are more comfortable with someone who follows the letter of the law no one does that more than an officer of the law, like Da….

That sentence goes no further. Oliver interrupts immediately.

"She does push at the rules but the intentions of her comportment are admirable. She cares about people she has never met. She is the best friend a person can have. She is fiercely loyal," he says definitively.

"Loyal, is that the best you've got? Son, so are dogs." Joe pauses for a moment, looks at the floor. "I thought you said you kissed her and everything changed," Joe continues as he turns to Oliver, raising his eyebrows and cocking his head. "There has to be a spark. If you don't think of her that way, then you have to let her go. You can't stay with her out of pity."

Now Oliver is stunned. He slides to the edge of the seat.

"PITY! PITY? This is not pity I feel. Just the other day at work she - she – and her bare feet - I couldn't even - well never mind." Oliver sighed and rubbed his brow. "As gentleman I will simply say that is not the problem."

Joe just looks at Oliver.

"You have not meant a word you have said," says Oliver. He looks dejected and uncharacteristically slumps back on the couch.

"Oliver, I think she is a wonderful woman. I thought there was something between the two of you the first time I met her. Son, you may not have realized it but you weren't exactly looking at her as just a friend even then. But you are my son. You and your happiness come first with me always. I still feel as if I am missing something. Where is all of this coming from? I thought things were going pretty well between you two. Did something go wrong?"

"Wrong? No. If anything it is just the opposite," says Oliver. "I knew things were becoming more serious day by day. Then we returned a wedding dress…. "

Oliver explains the entire story until the moment he walks into the DLO.

"And there she stood," said Oliver.

"What did you do?"

"She didn't know I was there. I walked up behind her and buttoned the dress for her," said Oliver.

"Whoa," said Joe.

"She was embarrassed and I may have teased her a little," said Oliver.

"May have?" said Joe with a chuckle. "Son, is this what this is about? Is she pressuring you to marry her?"

"No. Absolutely not. It is not like that. She said all the right things. She didn't think she would need the dress. She was going to remake it into something else but Dad, I could see her eyes in the mirror."

Tears well within Oliver's own eyes. "Later she told me that she never meant for me to see her to forget it. She said weddings have a way of making people who aren't getting married feel uncomfortable."

"You feel uncomfortable?"

"Yes," said Oliver, nodding his head.

"It seems to me that if you didn't want to face her in that wedding dress, you could have walked away. She isn't pressuring you. I'm not pressuring you. Somewhere deep inside I think you know the truth. There is a big difference between wanting and loving. I don't think you have a vision problem in the way you see her. You may have a courage problem. It's not called a leap of faith for nothing."

"I just want to be sure I'm landing on the right side this time."

The two men sit quietly. Joe will sit there all night if Oliver needs him. Several minutes pass before Oliver stands.

"She is wonderful. Isn't she, dad?"

"Yes son, she is."

"Dad, if you do not mind, I think I need to take a walk."

"Alone, I assume."

Oliver merely nods.

"Be careful. Stay on the main streets."

Oliver gets his coat and goes out into the night.

There are stars and a crescent moon. The night is crystal clear. Oliver wishes his mind was clear. It is cold – but it is always colder when she isn't there. At first he walks quickly, but as he approaches places where memories now seem transformational events he slows his pace.

He passes Washington Park – suddenly he remembers how he pushes her in the swing on their very first case together. Funny, he has almost forgotten pushing her – and she was barefooted. She is curious and tenacious and compassionate and courageous. She was not expecting to be a part of their lives yet she gives herself fully and an innocent man is freed from prison and two people deeply in love are reunited. Has she freed him? Are they two people who should be united?

He recalls her meeting him in this very park when she thinks it is Joe who is gone. "How many times has she stood by me?" he asks himself. "How seldom she has asked me to stand by her? Once - perhaps."

He walks downtown by the business center where in a few hours a coffee cart will appear and folks will buy tall Steamboat Americanos and lattes and make idle chatter. He wonders if coffee would taste the same without her – would anything be the same without her.

He walks by a building where a dance studio was lost in poker game. Here it is in retrospect that he begins to lose his heart – no, not lose - find his heart – find courage to face the truth, to move on with his life. He walks by what was once a bank where he was once locked in a vault – locked in a vault filled with love and with her. Finally he walks by a house with porch swing. He stops at the street corner, looks at the small yellow house, and prays.

"Heavenly Father, she has altered my life and I have fallen in love with her. She has become my first thought in morning and my last thought in the evening. I asked for a second chance and you provide it. I now seek your wisdom and guidance. Your word teaches us that you did not give us a spirit of fear but of love. If loving her, if loving her as my wife is right and pleases You, then remove from me this spirit of fear, this caution, this confusion. If you made us two to become one flesh give me the words to say and the freedom to say them. If you have made us two different people ultimately to walk two different paths, then I will accept that. Whatever is your will I do not wish to cause her pain or heartache. Give me peace that I may know what to do. I place all my anxiety on you because you promise to care for us all. Guide my heart, guide my life, O Thou great Jehovah. Amen."

Now he is home. Now he can rest.


	4. Chapter 4

**To all who are following this story and offering such gracious reviews, I say thank you. You have no idea what a blessing you are.**

 **FRIDAY**

"Good morning," says Oliver, entering his kitchen to find his dad already there.

"Good morning, breakfast?"

"No. Thank you. Just coffee. I am afraid I overslept."

"How did you sleep?"

"Much better."

"Good. Anything I can do?"

"No, I am just going to work. What about your plans for the day?"

"I'm going to grab some sandwiches and go out to the farm – see Bill. He's lost his wife and he is about to lose his little girl - to Norman. I think he needs a friend."

The two men chuckle over the latter half of that statement.

"Will you join us at the church tonight for the rehearsal or are you just going to meet us at Montaldo's for dinner?"

"I'll be at the church. They have to make certain I know how to usher a lady down the aisle. I think it is great that you're covering the rehearsal dinner for Norman at Montaldo's."

"Norman is a good man. He and Rita are…special. It is tradition that the groom's family host said dinner. I was not certain if any of his 37 cousins were available," says Oliver as he looks at his dad and smiles. "Besides, it is much less stressful than a bachelor party."

Giving each other a knowing look, they both laugh.

"Dad, I apologize for not being a very good host for you last night or this morning. Will you give me a second chance?"

"Always son, always. Besides, it's what dads do. You better go. You don't want to be late. You never know who might be at the office."

However, Oliver arrives and a certain "who" is not there. He admits to himself the disappointment he feels in not finding her there; nonetheless, she has become so much a part of his day that somehow he sees her in every turn – searching her computer – sorting letters – talking to Rita – checking on Norman in the lab.

Norman explains that she and Rita have gone to tell Jessica that they have found her mother. Of course they are also trying to arrange a meeting between the two women. Oliver just shakes his head. He thinks she needs a new job title: CRO – Chief Reconciliation Officer. His contemplations carry him back to that day in The Mailbox Grille when she arranges for Henry to meet his granddaughter via a computer screen – of course. She manages to reconcile three generations – grandfather, daughter-in-law, and granddaughter. She is happy. She is feeling good about the day. She is moved to tears of joy for others. He is in knots. He knows the lines he is about to deliver. He realizes that not only did he disappoint her in ceasing their dance lessons but also and worst of all he leaves her feeling used by him. He never wants to do that to her ever again.

The phone on his desk is ringing but lost in thought he makes no move to answer. Norman walks across the room and takes the call. Oliver is attentive enough to know that whatever the news it seems to be positive.

"That was Rita," said Norman. "You know the woman that I am going to marry tomorrow?"

"Yes," says Oliver, looking puzzled.

"Oliver, are you ok?"

"I'm fine. I'm just a little…."

"Distracted. I got it. Is there anything you need from me? I mean I only have a wedding tomorrow but you are my best friend."

"I'm sorry. Shall we change the subject? What did Rita say?"

"They talked to Jessica and her mom. They have arranged for them to have tea together at the Brown Palace this afternoon and we are to meet them there."

"Very well. I shall complete my responsibilities here, and then we will meet them at the Brown. Afterward, I shall go home and change for the rehearsal and for our celebratory dinner - which have not forgotten," he says with a smile and a nod.

Norman is beaming.

Everything about the day makes sense. He is oh so calm. It is a culminating event for the Postables. The last delivery for Rita and Norman before their wedding is truly divine. Per usual, they achieve not only uniting a lost package with its rightful owner but also reuniting lives. And who is at the center of it all? She is.

She is fully invested in helping people she previously did not know. She goes the extra mile. She delights in the outcome of being an agent of reconciliation, and he delights in her.

He looks across the room and sees Jessica – in the dress. More than his mind, his heart goes back to that moment he saw her in that dress and all the feelings he has for her are fresh – wanting to embrace her, wanting to share with her, wanting to support her, wanting to protect her, wanting to love her.

He is quiet. He smiles. He actually has spoken very little most of the week. It isn't that he is engrossed in his work to the degree that he has no time for small talk. It is not that he is so engaged in being the best man that he can think of nothing else. He spends most the week thinking – thinking about her – thinking about them. His conversations take place within his mind and heart and within the limitless boundaries of prayer. And now he is quiet.

She takes his arm. They walk away from the touching intimacy of this reunion of mother and daughter. As much as he is aware of the magnitude of the scene before them at the Brown Palace, he is more aware of her. She takes such pleasure in not only doing well but in doing good. She truly cares. Her work is not simply a way to make a living but a calling. She is smiling. He thinks of how much she wanted that dress yet seeing another woman wearing it brings her pure joy. Her desire for the other is greater than the desire for self. She knows what matters most. The more he sees who she truly is the more things that do not matter fade from view. Being by her side, sharing life with her bring him joy. It is like being carried on a raft in a gently flowing stream

"I love us," she declares openly.

Unplanned and unscripted the moment arrives and the words in his heart are on his lips – and I love – and I love you. The psalmist David once said, "my cup runneth over." His heart runs over and the words spill. The season has come and he knows his lines. He may have stopped breathing. What will be her response? Their eyes meet – her expressive face already telling him that he surprises her. Perhaps he thrills her. His confession will not return void.

Everything in him says this confession is right and good. He doesn't just love her, her cherishes her, he treasures her and he tells her he is still contemplating what to do about it. They are lost in each other. He will consider the timing of his next line.

She is replying that she loves him so much when her words are cut off. But the love for each other and the confession's result are not stopped. He continues looking at her, his heart lingers in the moment. Noise and words and people and movement surround them but it is as if they are alone together. The confession of their love for each other unites them in a new way.

These words are not uttered lightly.

If they could make the interruptions stop, halt all activity, and pause for just another moment they would. However, there is no time to ruminate over confessions of love between the two now. The bride and groom are displaced from their sanctuary and something must be done. There is a rehearsal dinner that must be cancelled, a barn to decorate, and their dearest friends' wedding to salvage.

Joe, Bill, Norman, Rita, Oliver and she spend the evening transforming a barn into a wedding venue. She runs a couple of Internet searches and makes a few calls from her mobile phone. Everything they need is quickly delivered. Isn't she amazing? The evening isn't filled with anxiety but laughter and energy. They laugh together and she bumps his shoulder. They make corny jokes about having cows present at a wedding being a moo-ving experience and about making certain Ramon does not milk it for all it is worth. He feels incredibly alive.

Her artistic side is on full display and Oliver can't stop smiling at her. Not only can she transform people she can transform a barn. "Allow me to help you with that" becomes his phrase of the night to her. If she sweeps the floor, he holds the dustpan. If she drapes lights, he drapes lights – that highest nail giving her difficulty and suddenly she finds his hand on top of hers making the connection possible. She turns and her face is oh so close to his. He can feel her breathing. If she climbs a ladder, he holds the ladder as she ascends and holds her waist as she is coming down. He is so comfortable with her.

Rita notices. Norman notices. Even Bill notices. Joe however understands. Upon completion the bride and the maid of honor leave together. After all, the bride needs her sleep.

Oliver climbs into Joe's truck for a ride home. It gives them a chance to talk.

"Dad, I need to tell you something."

Joe smiles. He wants to say that he already knows – but he lets Oliver have his say.

He has told her that he loves her and that she responded by saying that she loves him.

Oliver experiences something he has seldom seen. Joe has tears in his eyes.

"I couldn't be happier for you."

"Dad, I want to marry her – when the time is right."

"Well son, what are you waiting for?"

"A green tie and an engagement ring," answers Oliver with a chuckle.

"I might can help you with that," says Joe.

"You have a green tie?" asks Oliver.

"No, I have an engagement ring," says Joe.

The two men hit the straight away into the night. Clouds are moving in and covering the stars. Oliver is taken back by his dad's comment. Joe turns off the radio in the truck as he stops in front of Oliver's house.

"Just before mom died she told me that I would be inheriting the few things that belonged to her and dad. It wasn't much but it meant a great deal to me. She reached in her dresser and gave me her engagement ring. She had not worn it the last few years. Arthritis had gnarled her hands. I don't know if you remember seeing her wear it. She used to wear it all the time."

"You have grandmother's ring?"

"She said that one day, when the right woman came along, I might want to give it to her. Well, the right woman has come along – if you want to give it to her."

"Did mom ever wear the ring?" Oliver asks, looking out the window.

"No, she had already left us when mom gave it to me."

"I don't know what to say. I mean yes. Yes, I would be honored," said Oliver.

"Now if you want to go out and buy a ring I understand. NO PRESSURE."

"No, my grandmother, your mother, was the finest woman I ever knew."

"I will see that you get it."

Oliver gets out of the truck and goes inside. Joe pulls away to return his home. The news of what Joe has to give to Oliver is overwhelming. The love and support from his dad is something Oliver has denied himself for far too long. Oliver sits in the chair in his bedroom to remove his shoes. Memories of the wonderful woman he called grandmother filled his mind. The similarities of his grandmother's character and her character are clear to him now. Most significantly his grandmother made him feel loved. The kind of unconditional love a mother has for a child. She too makes him feel loved except this is the wonderful kind of love between a man and woman who become husband and wife. The thought that he could give her his grandmother's ring seems perfect. Everything is coming together in his life. For the second night in a row Oliver O'Toole says his prayers and sleeps soundly.


	5. Chapter 5: Saturday, part one

I am still working on the latter part of Saturday. I hope you enjoy the way I "filled in the blank" space of earlier that day. The characters belong to Martha Williamson. She is the best.

 **SATURDAY**

"And I love you so…" he is certain he can hear her. The sound of her voice saying those words faintly drift as Oliver slowly opens his eyes. It is Saturday. He hears the rain falling outside his bedroom window and there is the temptation simply to close his eye and go back to sleep. Somehow confessing his love to her makes even sleep better - easier.

He thinks of last night with her and smiles. He thinks about how much better last night is just because he dares to admit to her what he has long felt. He dares to love – to love openly – to say the words - to say his lines.

He thinks of when they parted. The two of them only look at each other – her eyes saying how much she loves him, he returning the look to her. He wants to scoop her into his arms, to hold her close, and to kiss her in a way that will stay with her until they meet again, but he believes public displays of affection are not appropriate. However, he cannot help himself from reaching across and taking the tip of her hand and squeezing it in his if for only a moment. She understands because she understands him. It is wonderful to feel understood and accepted.

And so he lies here – just thinking of her, thinking of her as the woman he loves, thinking of her as his fiancée, thinking of her as his wife. His wife…. Allowing the words to roll over in his mind is like trying on clothing to see how well it fits. Maybe he isn't ready to commit to a life long purchase. Or is he?

"What are you waiting for?" He hears his dad say to him.

"What am I waiting for?" he asks himself only to answer his own question. "Well a green tie, a ring - and the certainty of timing."

Voices from his past call to him – encouraging him. Couples whose relationships he always admired and longed to have for himself now beckon to him. "Come on in, the water is fine." These are married couples who set sail together – set the standard. Chief among them are his grandparents.

Images of the life his grandparents built together fill his thoughts – holding hands to walk by the bank of Boulder Creek, standing by the kitchen sink discussing their day, even disagreeing without being disagreeable. "Dear, I'm home," he still hears his grandfather call to his grandmother. "I'm right here," is always his grandmother's reply. It is her way of saying I am here now and always. And she always is. He thinks back to when his grandfather is dying – they hold hands and stare into each other's eyes until his grandfather's eyes close. As a boy he is terrified. As a man he now sees it as a picture of perfect love – til death us do part. "Marry me and I will love you forever." And they did.

He thinks of his former Sunday school teacher, Mrs. Genzinger. Her husband, a big gruff man with a gravely voice, always carries her box of Sunday school materials into class for her. He remembers him saying in reference to her plethora of supplies, "Sweetie, you're only teaching for an hour." This large intimidating man always calls her Sweetie. Then, when class is over this big man returns, "Sweetie, you need me to get those for you." Oliver is thankful that he could carry that box of Christmas decorations for her if only once – what two years ago, or is it three. He is thankful for the example she and her husband set. They always sat together in worship – he singing bass a little off key. But Oliver knows. Even as a boy he knows they love each other and they love God and they love the church. It's funny how the mind can suddenly produce a picture from the past. He recalls her saying once when the girls in the class were giggling about her husband calling her Sweetie, "If you girls are lucky, one day you may have someone to call you Sweetie." The memory makes him smile. Someone to call Sweetie….

He may have found his Sweetie but he can't see himself calling her that. He wonders if they will develop terms of endearment for each other. But he is ahead of himself again. Why is it that he tells her loves her one day and can only think of marriage the next?

The answer is quite simple. A young couple very much in love answered that question for him.

"What do you do when you love somebody? You marry them." His heart sweeps back to Blooms and Hugs Florist and one the most determined-to-marry couples he has ever known – Ellie and Bobby Richards. For the two of them it was an indisputable fact – when you love someone, you marry them.

"What are you waiting for?" he hears his dad ask again.

"What am I waiting for?" He asks himself as he looks at the vacant pillow lying next to him. He contemplates how much longer before he wakes beside her. To wake beside her is start a new day together, plan together, share together, hope together, and even when the time comes to grieve together. To wake beside her is to roll over and stretch your arm across her, draw her close, and whisper "good morning" into her ear through her mussed blonde hair. To wake beside her means that you have married her and will love her forever.

If this is what he truly wants he needs the courage to ask her.

He shakes his head. But they are not married, are not getting married because…he has not asked. You have not because you ask not. "Hasn't The Reverend Marshall preached on that verse? I don't think he was referring to a wife but….possibly a lack of faith is hindering my action."

The sound of a sudden torrent of rain washes away his daydream. He rises from the bed, pushes back the heavy drapery for a better view. He can barely see through the rain-splattered glass.

"Oh no. Nothing else can happen to Norman's wedding," he mutters.

He must put her out of his mind at least for the moment. His thoughts turn to the immediacy of the situation. Perhaps he should purchase a couple of those large umbrellas – golf umbrellas he thinks they are called – in the event that Norman or the guests should have need of one. Does Norman need galoshes? As the best man providing such would seem like his responsibility. With one hand still on the curtain he bows his head. "Dear heavenly Father, forgive the quickness of my prayer but Rita and Norman have experienced many obstacles to their ceremony. I ask You in your mercy…" The ringing phone on the bedside table momentarily interrupts his prayer. He pauses for a second then prays faster. "I ask You to prevent any further impediments to this evening – specifically floods; however should the rain continue may they not be discouraged. In the Name of Christ our Lord I pray, Amen."

Oliver quickly reaches the receiver before the ringing ceases.

"Hello."

"Good morning!" says a very awake and cheery Joseph O'Toole.

"Dad?"

"Did I wake you?"

"Uh no. Is everything well? What is that noise?"

"It's a dump truck."

"A dump truck?"

"Yeah, I'm at Bill's. I drove a backhoe this morning. It was great!"

"I beg your pardon. You did what?

"I woke up about six and heard the rain and called Bill to see if he needed anything. We dug a drainage ditch and got a load of gravel to spread on the drive out to the barn. With all that has happened we didn't want anything else to go wrong for these two kids."

"That is true. It is pouring here now. What about the farm?"

"It rained heavier a little while ago. It has let up some now."

"Your forethought in insuring access to the wedding venue is most commendable. You have everything well prepared," said Oliver.

"How often to you get to operate heavy machinery and save the day?" said Joe with a lilt in his voice. "I just called to see if you were - still smiling. Told anybody you loved them lately?" Joe teases.

"Dad," says Oliver, looking upward with smile and shaking his head.

"No, I just called to see if you needed anything."

"No. I'm fine. I am going to call Norman to see if he needs anything. I have not been - the most - attentive best man. Some time today I have to pick up my tux jacket. They had to alter the sleeves."

"They had to hem my pants. I can get your jacket when I get my pants. I'll just bring it to you at the farm. You can show up without a jacket. I can't show up without pants."

"No dad, this is not a clothing optional event. Slacks are necessary."

Both men laugh

"Actually, if you can get my jacket that would be helpful. If it isn't too much trouble."

"No trouble at all."

"Dad, thank you."

"No problem."

"No, I mean for everything."

"My pleasure, son."

Oliver hangs up with his dad and calls Norman immediately. He is instructed to "bring the umbrellas, leave the galoshes" His favorite men's shop not far from his house. He will call them to hold two umbrellas for him and he will purchase them on his way to farm this afternoon. The wedding is at 6:00. He will arrive by 5:00.

In this moment he is glad for the solitude – the quiet – even the rain. Instead of rushing for a shower and rushing to work he can take his time. It is cool in the house this morning. He takes his navy robe from the foot of the bed and steps into a pair of brown leather slippers neatly waiting for him on the Oriental rug.

This morning he will start his day with a cup of hot tea instead of coffee. If only he had a scone and her to share it with he thinks. He is smiling again. Maybe he is ready for his next line in this love story.

This morning he will have time to read and to pray and to think.

This quiet morning passes more slowly than Oliver expects. He eats breakfast, prays, reads Scripture. He showers and has a lite lunch as he reads the newspaper. He paces back and forth – checking the weather, checking to make certain he has everything he needs, checking the time. The rain ceases but looking out the window he thinks the drainage ditch and the fresh gravel may have saved folks from a boggy doom. He is grateful that Bill and his dad are friends. He is grateful that he has his dad in his life. He contemplates the necessity of large umbrellas and decides being prepared and not needing them is better than needing them and not being prepared. He starts upstairs but half way up can't remember what he needed. He decides it did not matter and goes back down.

He catches himself practicing dance steps. After all, the first dance is hers. Who is he kidding? Every dance is hers. He chuckles to himself. Looking at his watch he thinks of how long it will be until he can see her. A part of him wishes he were not so anxious to see her. He sighs. He regrets not sending her yellow roses today. It is too late now.

As time is prone to do the hour suddenly slips by him and now he must hurry. He wears a navy blazer, gray dress slacks, a white shirt and topcoat to travel to the farm. He carries his tux – minus the jacket – in a hanging bag. He will dress at the barn with Norman. He stops along the way for two large umbrellas – which seem obviously not needed by this time. Nevertheless, bring the umbrellas; leave the galoshes. He dresses in a converted storage room at the back of the barn. Pushing that last cufflink through he checks on Norman.

 _"You ok my friend?"_

 _"I've been thinking about this day for so long. I just never thought of farm animals."_

Oliver embraces his dear friend and thinks Norman is the most blessed man that he knows – finding his soul mate and marrying her. In that moment his heart prays, "Thank you for Norman and Rita. Bless them Father."

His own heart concludes he too has found his soul mate, his one true love. Does she feel the same? He thinks she does. Earlier this morning in his time of prayer he thanks God for her. It was kneeling by his bed that he makes his decision – the first opportunity – he will ask her to marry him. In this moment he reaffirms that decision. He prays again what he had prayed that morning. "And yes Lord, I will ask her to marry me as soon as possible – probably within the next few days. And he senses that peaceful presence come on him."

He had no sooner uttered again that prayer than his dad appears with the needed jacket and some very odd instructions.

"Oh, you might want to check the pockets just in case."

Check the pockets. He slips his hand in his pocket and feels the tie and the ring. Finding them there causes his heart to beat a little faster. "Oh Lord." He did not expect this. He does not believe in coincidence but in providence. He prayed and God provided – the woman, the tie, the ring, the time. This is time. This is the moment. He does not sigh. He exhales.

"Norman would you mind terribly if I changed my tie?" he asks.

"Why do I think this has something to do with the maid of honor?" says Norman.

"I will only say what a good man once said to me, I know what I am going to do."

Oliver smiles. He is ready. He will not waist another minute, another second. Change that tie. Now is the time.


	6. Chapter 6: Saturday, part two

Saturday just cannot end. This reflection gets us through the ceremony and the proposal. I will write either a third part and an epilogue or just an epilogue. It will be at least a week before I write more. Again I am truly grateful for your reading and reviewing. You have been a source of encouragement to me in ways you cannot know. The characters and story line belong to the best writer in television, Martha Williamson.

Saturday – Part two

Oliver returns. The elegant bow tie removed; the garish green tie displayed. He sees the puzzled look on Norman's face.

"I know," he says tucking the tie into his jacket. "Don't ask."

"Do whatever you have to do my friend," replies Norman with a smile. "I know I would. Well, I did."

The two men chuckle.

Oliver and Norman now wait anxiously for the ceremony to begin. One waits for his bride; the other waits for the one he hopes will be his bride. Oliver is honored to wait with Norman. More than any other time he realizes Norman's place in his journey to the altar and he is grateful. Oliver's role in this life-play has always been of section leader - the wiser, older, more confident brother; however, when it comes to this day Norman's willingness to communicate, to take action, to risk all for love set the example for him. It is most appropriate that this day he follows Norman down the aisle. This day Norman is leader.

As they wait at the back Oliver catches himself scanning the room for her. He knows that she is sequestered with the bride but his heart can feel that she is near. Funny, how knowing that she is there – somewhere – that he will see her soon makes him feel simultaneously excited and at peace. If she were not there, he thinks he would be a very lonely man.

The background music of Gabe strumming his guitar went previously unnoticed by the preoccupied best man. But once the music starts to play along with the voice of the poet his attention is caught. The time is now.

Oliver takes a deeper breath as he walks the aisle that he and she created together just last night – lining every random chair they can find – making certain the rows are straight - calling the florist to secure a white runner that is now beneath his feet. He sees his dad and cannot help himself from reaching out to him, touching his dad's shoulder - the shoulders on which his head rested as a little boy, the shoulders that carried him aloft in Washington Park, the shoulders on which much of whom he has become rests.

His heart is so full right now that if he let himself he could cry or even burst with laughter. However, he will not. This moment is not about him or her; it is to be about Norman and Rita. He will be as composed and inconspicuous as a man wearing a bad tie can be – as a man deeply in love with the maid of honor can be.

He takes his place and waits to get a glimpse of her. And then she appears. She turns to walk their created aisle. Ultimately it is a path they made together that alters them both and leads to each other. The woman he has waited for his entire life walks the aisle, every step growing closer. She wears a shade of red that reminds him of a dress she wore their first Christmas ball. He is glad she only dances with him now. She carries flowers. He smiles. He hears Gabe sing, " _In my wildest imagination I could never imagine you loving me as much as I do you."_ Oh how correct is the poet. He swallows the lump in his throat. He slightly shoulders in not ready for her to see. Don't be obvious. Let her get in place he thinks. She may not notice. In a fleeting thought he braces himself for the possibility that her eyes could reveal displeasure. "Do not think such," he tells himself. He knows better.

As she walks closer to them she acknowledges the happy groom first as she should. He cannot help but smile as she makes eye contact with him expressing her joy in this moment - in this marrying of Rita and Norman. He watches her face transform as she sees the tie - her eyes widen as they focus on this unexpected article of clothing. She sees and she is stunned and bit dazed. Could it be THE tie?

Nevertheless a bride approaches and their attention must turn to her. As the ceremony continues her eyes are teary and even his become bit misty. They share laughter with bride and groom and congregation. Oh her beautiful and expressive face. As often with her, words are not needed. Her face says it all. He knows that she is hoping that this is a unique night for them as well. He realizes that he is a bit nervous.

The officiator shares words on love and marriage. Does she hear them? The voice belongs to their dance instructor, philosopher, caterer, and poker-playing good friend. But the words – the words belong to Oliver. It is Oliver's heart that speaks them to her in this moment. Does she have any idea?

After all Oliver is the author. He wrote them for Rita and Norman's ceremony just as he once wrote Rita's speeches. It is his wedding gift at their request to them. When he penned them he tried to tell himself it was an exercise both in academic prose and theological truths on marriage. But these words flow freely from his heart because of her. With the writing of every word he thought of her and their shared journey. They are truths he once believed but that had become dormant, buried. They are rekindled through their shared journey. She breathed life into the words he stored in his heart. She breathed life into him and thus inspired his composition.

Bride and groom share communion and commitments. He and Shane share knowledge and anticipation of things to come for which only his dad has any understanding. His heart beats harder. He proudly offers her his arm to escort her from the altar. It is only a matter of time. She questions. He does not answer. For a second he is proud of his tie. Now he is being playful, coy. Is it THE ugly green tie or does Norman have bad taste in ties for his best man? He doesn't have to tell her. She knows. She knows.

For Oliver, surely this is the longest reception on record. The ceremony is complete, the first dance is finished, the cake is cut, the guests are fed, good wishes are shared. They circulate the room separately. He tries to be fully present when speaking to others but he catches himself looking across the way at her. She is amazing. Hopefully after tonight she will be his. Finally the last guest leaves. He feels his heart beat a little faster again as the room empties.

He brings her coat over to her, clears his throat, and asks, "Shall we go outside and give Rita and Norman a moment?"

"Certainly," she replies.

He opens the heavy barn door for her and extends his arm to her as he has on many occasions. But this is unlike any other occasion. They walk out into the cool damp night. Everything is quiet. There is a light breeze. He could feel the lump coming into his throat. He swallows hard. He had never been more certain of anything or more wanting of anything. Everything he hoped for is now by his side, within reach.

The time is now. He knows his lines. He turns to face her. He takes her hands. Every act is very intentional. He asks her not to look at his tie but to look at his eyes and listen to his heart. And then he pauses. He sees her eyes well with tears and hears her voice break. A part of him wants to scoop her into his arms and whisper the rest into her ear but he wants to offer himself to her in a fashion that is unmistakable. He has her full attention. Not until she is looking into his eyes does he go down on his knee as if to say, "Watch me. With every fiber of my being, I mean what I am about to say." The moment is slow and deliberate.

There is something heartbreaking and profoundly earnest in this proposal. It is not heartbreaking in the sense of one's heart being destroyed but in the sense of a heart being born again – a breaking open to a new life. Breaking open of a scarred heart requires courage. It is the breaking open of a heart to trust that was once closed with fear. Oliver O'Toole dares to offer his heart. And in the offering and breaking open of a heart that was deeply and repeatedly wounded is to say that faith wins, hope wins, love wins.

If his voice were mute in that moment his eyes would say it all. I am offering my heart to you. I am promising to love you _for better or for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health to love and to cherish until death us do part_.

It is not enough to ask her this particular question. This is not a simple request. This is a plea and a pledge. Marry me and I will love you forever.

And there he is on bended knee – not even noticing the gravel cutting into his knee or the hem of his coat lying in a puddle of water. Nothing matters in that moment but her response. "Yes, Oliver. Yes, I will marry you and love you forever."

That is all he needs to hear - all he needs to know.

He rises quickly. There is a seal for this contract. "This was my grandmother's. She was the finest woman I ever knew…until you." The usually calm O'Toole is a little nervous. This is not merely a symbol he offers her. It is a precious symbol. This is the gift that symbolizes everything he has waited all his life to give. Every woman who truly mattered broke his heart – but not the woman who wore this ring. He begins "I hope it's not too –" He wants this to be right. He wants her to be pleased. He would even sacrifice this token and purchase another for his pearl of great price.

But no, no, no, no, no, a 1000 times no – she is honored, thrilled, deeply moved. Her loving, complete acceptance of this token further affirms his decision and adds to his joy. She loves the ring. She loves him.

He sees the wheels turning inside her head. What is she contemplating? She lifts his tie. He is embarrassed and feels slightly foolish to wear such. This green tie is nothing compared to what he would do for her. She sees him as no fool. He feels her physically pull him to her by that ugly green tie. She has been pulling at his heart in one way or the other since the first day they met. Only now her pull is not met with any resistance. It is only joy and love and laughter and shared passion. He could kiss her until the cows come home. It is the taste of her lips, the touch of her face, the feel of her hand on his neck, the fragrance of her perfume all held in his arms. He holds onto her through that bundle of coat thinking that one night before too long he will not have to let her go - ever.

They stay outside longer than they realize. He cannot possibly hold her close enough. He brushes the joyful tear that drops on her cheek with his thumb. They are eye-to-eye and toe-to-toe – giggling, and smiling, and allowing for tears. There are some scenes so joyful and intimate that even Shakespeare lacks for words. This is such a moment and he kisses her once more.

In a moment they will return inside to light, and music, and friends. But for now the choose only each other.


	7. Chapter 7: Epilogue

Dear Readers,

Thank you again for your many gracious reviews. You gave me much to contemplate. I decided to skip a part three for Saturday and to conclude with the epilogue. I hope you enjoy the ending of my musings concerning Oliver and To The Altar. The characters and the story which inspired my thoughts belong to Martha Williamson.

Epilogue

The house is empty. It is late. Oliver sits on the brown leather sofa swirling a snifter of fine brandy. It is simply not a Yoo-Hoo kind of night. He had a couple of glasses of champagne but that was earlier. He is just sitting there – thinking – thinking about her – contemplating the two of them.

An hour earlier he enters his house and hangs his coat. Walking toward his bedroom he removes his tux jacket and chuckles thinking of that ugly green tie and they way she pulled him toward her with it. He adores her. He checks his watch for the time, 1:31 a.m. He wants to call his dad – just to talk, to thank him again; however, it is too late. He will have to wait. They plan to go together to join him for a late lunch tomorrow.

Together – together takes on new meaning tonight. He dropped her at her house less than fifteen minutes earlier yet it is she who he most wants to call. He walks to the phone by his bed and picks up the receiver only to return it. She looked so tired - happy but tired when they leave the farm together. As he walks her to her door she clings to his arm and leans against his chest. He isn't certain if it is more from affection or exhaustion. But he does not care. He is glad that she rests on him. He escorts her just inside her door and kisses her once more before parting. He tells her to sleep well and he will come for her around 1:00 p.m. – less than twelve long hours now. Yes, they will go see his dad together. He will let her get her rest for tonight. Besides, what would he say if he calls? I love you. I miss you. Marry me.

He sighs.

Funny, he is standing in his bedroom in the middle of night and he does not know what to do with himself – except think of her – think of them – and smile.

He turns down his bed and thinks how she will share it with him one day. Maybe he should buy a new mattress before they get married. His musings are all over the place but they all come back to her.

He is restless. He decides a shower may help. It has been a long day. Even there the thought of her cannot be washed away. He really doesn't want to wash away anything about her – quite the opposite. Until he has pledged his intentions before God and the accompanying witnesses he will guard where those thoughts go.

And now he sits – sits on the sofa, swills brandy, and thinks of her – wishing all the while that she were with him now. How long should they wait to be married? What is a respectable engagement? Longer than three hours is a certainty. He shakes his head. Perhaps they should talk to his pastor. If he would go to bed and go to sleep he may actually ably attend church in the morning and speak to Rev. Marshall.

Church – Dale. He needs to tell Dale. She will be supportive. She will understand. She always does. In spite of Dale saying all the right things and doing all the right things she will experience a twinge of hurt; he knows. Perhaps he will tell her after the service ends. He acknowledges there once was something between the two of them. Whatever it is was it was neither meant to be nor was it ever what he has found now. Still he does not look forward to telling her. He takes a deeper draw on the glass and closes his eyes.

He rests his head back against the couch. His thoughts wander to earlier this evening. He can see her coming down the aisle; he can hear her saying yes to his proposal; he can feel her in his arms. He is thankful.

He begins to unwind, to relax and to think of so many things she did that tonight he sees in an even more grateful light. He mind drifts to a spring day and out of balance porch swing. "I have no intentions in leaving, if that matters." Why has she always known what he most needed to hear? He thinks of how she does not leave him that night in DLO after learning about his father – how she wants to put her arms around him and tell him that everything is going to be ok. She throws her arms around him and it really makes life better – him better. He thinks how her arms around him make everything better. He smiles.

He finishes the brandy and stretches out on the sofa. He thinks he will read. What better choice than _The Four Loves_ by C.S. Lewis? He has read it before. But tonight he never opens the book. Instead, he thinks of the many ways and many times she exhibited love to him: storing Yoo-hoo's at The Mailbox Grille, saying I only dance with you, giving him a second chance after a terrible dinner, putting a camping trip ahead of their long awaited date, sitting and praying in the chapel at the hospital, faithfully writing letters while away. He can even remember what she was wearing when he found her that morning in the DLO. He smiles at her wanting to be his first dance tonight. Yes, he is thankful for her friendship, and her faith, and her love.

In helping deliver him from the controlling pain of his past, from fear, from doubt, she became the object of his affection. He is free to love her and to embrace this hope and this future with her. He is at peace.

So many beautiful memories to ponder - he begins to drift to sleep.

 _This odd fellow who loves words and books and things from the past and has spent his life trying to find a future with someone in it to share it with_ has found her.

She is his dear lady, his dear friend, his love. She is his Shane.

THE END


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